Judgement
by last.one.leaving
Summary: A year of preparation for the darkness looming on the horizon. How does the new Queen cope with the challenges that face her now? A detailed 'Slice of Life' look at the Queen's first year, and her relationships with those around her.


Heya everyone! I've published on the site before, but a long time ago. Now I'm having another shot! This story focuses on the details of the year that passes during the preparation to fight the Crawler, and the new Queen's relationships with her friends. Consider it a 'Slice of Life'. Enjoy!

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><p>"All stand for the Queen of Albion."<p>

Walter's deep voice rung out clear as a bell, reverberating against the walls. The hall suddenly hushed to an eerie quiet, even whispers giving in to silence as the new Queen made her way down the aisle, focusing her gaze only on the throne which beckoned her from what seemed like miles away.

Her allies stood around the throne, and she knew they were baying for blood. They watched her carefully with a mixture of emotion; Kalin and Sabine with barely hidden wrath, as if daring her to exact the revenge everybody wanted, Page with calming presence-of-mind, Walter with indifference and a tight, bolstering smile.

Suddenly, she was there, and some kind of stage fright hit her like a blow to the gut. She resisted the urge to double up and forced her suddenly rigid body around against her allies, to face the crowd...and her brother.

He stood there at the steps, his dark eyes burning as he stared directly at her, meeting her gaze. She felt so many things from him; calm derision barely smothered with misplaced arrogance- his life was in her hands now, and he knew it, but he was damned if he was going to let her see it.

And yet, she couldn't confirm it. She knew nothing of what was going through his head now; he was a different man entirely. She would not have recognised him had she been shown a portrait of him as he was now two or three years ago.

She forced herself to sit, half expecting the elegantly carved throne to fall out from under her and for her to tumble into the black abyss of a dreamworld, to wake in her bed, a princess once more, but the cushioned seat remained solid and took her weight easily. His gaze followed her; he never broke eye contact with her. He was challenging her, but she would not crumble.

"Today, Logan, you face trial for the crimes you committed during your time as King." Walter's voice was so loud next to her, and she resisted the urge to shuffle away. She idly wondered if this was how her mother had felt, suddenly thrown into a life she did not know within the castle, surrounded by men who thought her incapable of rule but urged by her people to do so. But then, she had been strong, a woman of indomitable pertinacity.

The new Queen's throat lurched as she realized she was supposed to speak. What should she say? She couldn't make her judgement before her brother had had the chance to plead his case. And yet, he remained perfectly still, calm in defiant juxtaposition to the conflict marring the Queen's features, his gaze burning into her. A baptism of fire.

"Logan." She spoke if only to break the crushing silence. "You have subjected this country to much turmoil during your rule. How do you explain your actions?"

She briefly pondered if that was what she was supposed to say, but clouding her mind were the events that passed prior to her coronation. He had argued with her. She and Walter had stormed the uncannily silent castle- all the Royal Guard were charging the streets of Bowerstone in an effort to crush the insurgence. Fully armed and barbarous were they when they smashed in the doors of the war room, to be met with just one man, his thin silhouette thrown across the stretch of carpet between them, his dark eyes glowing in indignation. His sword was not fully drawn, yet the castaway Princess had been expecting a fight, and he knew it.

He had resisted only mildly, his temper held back and sealed with his unruffled countenance. It made everything more difficult; if only she had defeated him in a duel, she would feel she had the right to usurp him. She had wondered if he knew this, and had deliberately avoided conflict in order to fluster her.

But he had not gone quietly. He had been trying to reason with her, but Walter was not having it and wrested him away. What had he been trying to tell her? A callous ruler he had been, but he had the right to explain himself. He was her brother, after all.

It was for this reason she prompted him in court, hoping it was the right thing to say.

He gazed at her evenly for a moment, the barely smothered ire in his eyes giving way to righteous contentment. He believed he was vindicated in his decisions.

"This question comes too late, sister. But no matter. The night our mother died, I was visited by a blind seer, Theresa. Our mother's guide. She warned me of an attack on Albion. The darkness in Aurora is coming here." His words were emphatic, the power in his words falling heavy on the Queen's shoulders.

A moment of silence. She felt the sudden tension from Walter even without looking at him. The people- her people- looked about themselves in confusion. Of course, they knew nothing of the darkness she had seen, but the simple word 'attack' was enough to induce apprehension in anyone.

The Queen forced herself to remain the picture of composure, but inside she was blistering. The darkness? She had no idea. If Theresa had known this as many as three years ago, when her brother was first crowned, why had she not told her?

How could she face this threat to her kingdom so soon?

Her brother had not finished.

"The risks I took were necessary. If a few people had to suffer, it was to build an army. If a few had to die, it was to save a kingdom. Do you see that?"

Yes. Yes, she did, but suddenly she was filled with conviction, anger building inside her; anger that was perhaps misplaced, knowing now what Theresa had neglected to tell her, but anger nonetheless. But did her brother's reasons explain what he had put her through right at the beginning? Making her choose between innocent people, protesting for what they believed was right, and poor Elliot, who, unrehearsed in a moment he had never expected, faced her with the most serene look in his brown eyes and told her that it simply had to be him that died to save those people. That there was no other way. That he still loved her.

He had been executed straight away, and the grief still ate away at her heart. There had been no need for that.

"Now do you understand?" The words ruptured her thoughts. "Do you understand what I was trying to show you that day in the court? This is the burden of rule. This is the weight you must carry. Every decision you make will hurt. Do you punish your people to save them, or do you let them live their short lives in luxury until they face the death that waits for them when the darkness arrives?"

Had he faced the kind of pain that tortured her soul when she condemned the boy she loved to death to save the lives of the peasants that simply wanted what they deserved- their rights...? It was need versus want, and the creeping doubt in her mind told her what she already knew. Her decision then was the same as the decisions her brother had faced every day for the past three years.

Sabine lost his patience.

"This man condemned my people to die! He took what was rightfully ours and left us in poverty," he raved in his thick accent, "and now he wants you to think it was the right thing to do! I say, give him what he deserves!" A warning look from Walter that she almost felt pass over her head silenced him and he stepped back, but his words still weighed her down.

"Yet that was not enough." The Queen looked over at Kalin, whose words carried the fury of betrayal, but were even and tempered by her manners. She addressed Logan directly. "You came to Aurora and saw the devastation there. You promised me, you promised my people, that the kingdom of Albion would come to our aid and rid us of the darkness. And then you left, breaking your promise. I waited for the aid to come, yet I knew I should never have trusted you. You betrayed us, and you should pay for that crime."

"But isn't that why we're here?" Page leaned over to the Queen, who met her gaze, pleading silently for help. "I have seen first hand what the poverty in Bowerstone is like. It is atrocious, but will more death solve anything?"

The statement surprised the baffled Queen; Page hated her brother. She had treated the then-Princess with nothing but the purest contempt when they had first met, simply for being related to him, and yet now she was defending him. She wanted to ask why, but Walter spoke, his booming voice once again quieting the chatter that had spread throughout the crowd and the whispered arguing among her allies.

"Perhaps we should allow the Queen to make her decision."

They could all see she didn't want to, but she leveled her gaze once more towards her brother. There was no escape. She couldn't delegate to someone else.

She swallowed hard.

"The crimes you have committed are inexcusable. You have ruined people's lives and left them desolate. Many have died as a result of your actions."

Logan's jaw hardened as he ground his teeth together, and braced for the inevitable.

"...However, today is not the day for revenge. Death only begets death, and we have all seen more than our fair share of it over the last year. I do not want to be the cause of more slaughter."

"The Queen has made her decision," Walter declared as Logan allowed himself to be openly bewildered, "Logan's life will be spared."

The roar from the crowd was one of disapproval, but her words held true with the crowd and even they had not the audacity to challenge her. She did not face her chattering friends or the crowd, but rose from the throne to meet her brother's gaze.

"I don't know what to say," he said softly, so only she could hear. For a moment, his stoic composure shattered and the hardness in his eyes gave way to relief.

"You don't have to say anything," the Queen replied, wanting only to leave the throne room behind her to contemplate her future. She made to leave, but he grabbed her arm, and she shot a warning look to the guards that stood by who had made to raise their weapons.

"I know that you will never forgive me," he said, some of the weight returning to his face, "you told me so yourself, remember?"

How could she forget, that moment when she lunged for him in howling wrath, and the guards grappled with her, and Elliot was led away to his death? It was burned into her mind.

"Of course I do," she replied stiffly, forcing her grief from her mind.

"The castle, and the Kingdom, are yours. I am glad to be rid of them."

She ripped her gaze from his to see the colours of the crowd tearing away, their faces freezing, the warmth of the people around her dissipating in one moment. Silence fell, and a white vision lacerated the fabric of the reality of what was around her, a vision of a gaping gate in the form of a pulsing Guild Seal that beckoned her.

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, and dragged her unwilling feet towards the yawning portal.

Time to face the truth.


End file.
